


An In-Depth Analysis of White's Seahorses

by Am (AmaranthineAmusement)



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: AU- No Rash Illness, Diving, F/M, Gen, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranthineAmusement/pseuds/Am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikkel Madsen and Sigrun Eide met in strange circumstances ten years ago. Now, they're expected to co-lead a research mission offshore of Australia in dangerous waters and a dubious legal situation. Officially, they're observing the habits of endangered sea creatures. Unofficially, they're hunting for the remains of a sunken ship that reportedly carried thousands of dollars worth of ancient coins. Their crew? Four of the least qualified people possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Sigrun meets him for the first time when she’s halfway through an underwater diving mission in Iceland. One minute she’s having the time of her life, dodging an (admittedly kind of angry) leopard seal, next minute- sopping wet fully clothed person weighing her down. She emerges, sputtering, a few seconds later, wetsuit dripping onto ice and breath freezing as it hits the air.

 

“What did you think you were doing!?” She resheathes her knife in a sharp, efficient movement, not bothering to wipe off water or blood.

  
He rolls his eyes even as he shivers, leaning back on the ice. “Doctor’s orders. I’m supposed to be exposed to the cold, improves my circulation.”

  
Sigrun knows when she’s being bullshitted. “Please.”

  
“Well. Doctor of marine biology.”

  
He has the audacity to remain completely unflinching, even under what Uncle Trond calls her "stop acting stupid" stare. Annoying. She turns away from him in a huff and looks back to sea. Where did he even come from? She doesn’t see a boat- oh.

  
Oh, shit. There still isn’t a boat, but there are several angry looking leopard seals coming their way. She looks over to where the leader of the expedition- Taru Hollola- is supposed to be waiting, but quickly realizes why she’s no longer there. Well, on to plan C.

  
“You’re from that Danish expedition, aren’t you?”

  
She yanks him up with one arm, the other going for her knife (why did she resheathe it? She never resheathes it!).

  
“Yes?”

  
“Run towards the camp!”

  
He sees the seals a moment after she does. He must not freeze when he’s nervous, because he takes off before he even sees the polar bear. Probably for the best.

  
Their feet beat a steady rhythm, his teeth still chattering. She's more used to running on ice, and it shows- every few steps he slips, and she has to stop to help him up. They're doubly lucky, because seals don't more particularly fast on land and the polar bear doesn't seem to want to eat humans today.

  
Still, Sigrun’s swearing under her breath the whole way, watching as the dane pants out clouds of hot breath. As uncomfortable as she is, in a wetsuit that’s gradually freezing at the current temperature, the doctor has to be worse- he’s in regular clothing, after all. And he’s obviously not trained in combat.

  
After what seems like an eternity, they turn a corner around a large outcropping of rock and he lets out a shout of surprise, pointing over towards-  
Yes! Her ship!

  
She grabs him by the elbow, dragging him (he moves slower than she does, after all) over to where Uncle Trond has the rowboat. The Uncle in question is gesturing for them to move quicker. She doesn’t bother looking back.

  
The barking of the seals gets louder as she and the dane jump over ice and find steady footing on the snow, breath coming quicker and quicker, skidding over patches of frozen ice melt to get to the shore-

  
They stumble to a stop together, Sigrun pushing him towards the boat as she turns on her heel to face the seals, knife out in case they go for her. She puffs herself up, tries to look intimidating.

  
The doctor looks vaguely anxious at the thought of stepping over the water again, so Sigrun pushes him into the boat. There’s no time for deliberation.  
“Go, Uncle Trond!”

  
He doesn’t need asking twice. Before she can blink, they’re rowing off towards the larger research vessel- and the seals, seeing the boat, decide it’s not worth their time.

 

Yes! Score one for Sigrun.

 

Sigrun leans back and sits down, punching the doctor lightly on the shoulder. “Not bad, for a civvie!” Her heartbeat is still going a mile a minute.  
He doesn’t respond, just lets out a long sigh and reaches for one of the towels.

  
“Of course, we wouldn’t have had any problem if you hadn’t tried to drown me, but hey- what’s life without a little excitement!” She slings an arm around his shoulder, beaming. Nothing like an adrenaline rush to wake you up in the morning! “Man, it would be great if you weren’t on the Danish expedition- it would be totally awesome to have you with me! You could be, like, the seal watcher or something. We could go diving together! Although you don’t seem like much of a diver, so maybe something else?”

  
Still no response from the Dane, just a nauseous groan.   Uncle Trond shoots her a disapproving look. “Sigrun. We’ve had a discussion about this. Leave people alone when they’re recovering from almost dying.”

  
“Oh, come on! We would have been totally fine, am I right, Doctor Seal?” She elbows the Dane in the side.

 

He groans in response, still panting. “It’s Doctor Madsen. Mikkel Madsen, actually. And I would be quite happy if I never did anything like that again.”

  
“Ha! You’re the one who jumped on an innocent swimmer.”

  
Before the Dane can respond, Uncle Trond gives her another glare. “Sigrun!”

  
“He’s _totally fine_!”

  
Uncle Trond shoots her a disapproving look anyway, poking at her with one of the oars. “I’m old, I know best!”

  
He’s only, like, forty.

  
She turns to back to Madsen, who’s edged away from her in the confusion and is now in the middle of a yawn. “So, are we dropping you off at the Danish camp?”

  
His neck slowly flushes red. She’s struck by how young it makes him look- he’s only a few years older than Sigrun herself. “Drop me off at the pier... I’m leaving on the next flight to the mainland.”

  
“Really? But the season isn’t even close to over!”

  
“Well, uh-“

  
They hit a swell, and his face goes green enough that Sigrun holds off on questioning him. It’s for the best, too, because as they reach the boat Sigrun sees an unfamiliar face- some man in military dress with a braided beard?

  
Turning back, she looks at the Doctor- who hasn't even seen the other dane. Braided beard guy finds him anyway.

  
“YOU!” roars the unexpected weirdo. “FIRST YOU TELL EVERYONE ON MY CREW THEY HAVE FISH-INDUCED CANCER, AND NOW YOU EXPECT FOR ME TO SAVE YOUR SORRY LITTLE ARSE FROM DROWNING?”

  
Fish cancer? The yelling makes no sense to her (is she mistranslating from the danish?) but the doctor doesn’t seem to care either, so maybe it really is nonsense. Madsen steps gingerly onto the boat, not even bothering to respond to the furor directed at him.

  
“HONESTLY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE INCOMPETENT, BUT I ASSUMED YOU WOULD AT LEAST BE ABLE TO BOARD A PLANE ON TIME- BUT NO! YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE MORE WORK FOR ME!” Now he’s pulling on his beard, stomping back and forth on the deck. “I WOULD HAVE LEFT YOU TO FIGURE OUT YOUR FUTURE YOURSELF, BUT YOUR LIFE INSURANCE IS STILL PROVIDED BY THE MILITARY AND I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO WASTE OUR PRECIOUS BUDGET ON YOU!”

  
Sigrun nudges her uncle. “Do we…. know this guy?”

  
“He’s from the danish expedition.” he mutters back, lips twitching. “Admiral, apparently.”

  
The Admiral has pulled out a rifle (hopefully unloaded) and is gesturing widely with it. “AT THIS POINT I WOULD BE HAPPY IF YOU NEVER SHOWED YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN- EVEN WHEN YOU’RE LEAVING YOU MANAGE TO CREATE PROBLEMS!”

  
Doctor Madsen looks solemnly back at him. “My apologies, sir. You should be careful with all that yelling, though- you might get throat cancer. Highly dangerous. Practically fatal.” He makes a vague gesture. “Like magic, almost.”

  
“MADSEN!”

  
“Or strep throat. Have you been having pain in your vocal chords recently?”  
  
“STOP THIS NONSENSE IMMEDIATELY! THE ONLY PAIN I HAVE IS A PAIN IN MY ASS- YOU!”

  
Sigrun grins even wider. “No wonder the doctor was so good at dodging bloodthirsty animals." She can’t help it. She snickers.

  
Uncle Trond elbows her, but he doesn’t put any heart in it.

  
“Pain in your ass, you say? Well, I would be happy to check for you to see if cancer has formed in the gluteus maximus, but since I’m no longer in your employ…”

  
Dr. Madsen is moving slowly towards the door of the cockpit. Braids are flying. Sigrun has by now completely forgiven the Doctor for ruining her mission, because this is the most fun she’s had in ages. Trond elbows past the Admiral- he doesn’t even get a blink in response.

  
“IT WAS A METAPHOR, YOU INSUBORDINATE BUFFOON! I HOPE YOU DON’T WANT A RECOMMENDATION, BECAUSE YOU CERTAINLY SHOULD NOT BE WORKING ANYWHERE OTHER THAN A SMELLY, USELESS PIG FARM!”

  
The Admiral looks like he would happily keep yelling for years, but the doctor doesn’t respond, choosing instead to move fully into the cockpit and close the door firmly behind him. The other inhabitant of the boat, Taru, (when did she show up?) hands Sigrun a flask of Brennivín solemnly. “Give this to the other guy.” she whispers, voice carrying surprisingly well. “He deserves it.”

  
“So, uh…” Sigrun starts towards the cockpit as well. “Are we dropping you off at your camp?”

  
“SEND ME TO THE PIER!” Wow, this guy’s voice really carries. “I WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT NUMBSKULL ACTUALLY LEAVES.” He turns towards the cockpit. “I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU, BOY!”

  
Sigrun snickers about it all the way into the cockpit, tossing Madsen the flask before taking over the controls. “Good luck with that, buddy.”

  
“I won’t need it.” He opens the flask and sniffs the contents. “Wow, this is the good stuff.”

  
“Ha, yeah.”

  
“Look, I really appreciate it, but- I probably shouldn’t drink before boarding a plane. Sneak it into the Admiral's flask, he's funny when he's drunk.”

  
Sigrun laughs outright, turning towards the dock as they make a slow approach to the pier and airfield. “Sounds like insubordination to me.”

  
He shrugs, looking out over the water. “Are we close to the pier?”

  
“Yep.” She takes a tight turn around the dock and hits the brake just in time to miss another research vessel. Everything in the cabin shifts forward a few inches, leaving the dane looking rather queasy. Whatever. No one died.

  
“Well.” He picks up his bag, wincing as he puts it over his shoulder (a bruise?). “Thanks for everything, uh-“

  
“Sigrun! Sigrun Eide. Bye, saboteur.”

  
“Inaccurate.”

  
With that, he opens the door, throws the flask at the Admiral- who catches it, thankfully- and steps off onto the pier. Sigrun leans forward, her position precarious-

  
“BYE!"

  
She only gets a halfhearted wave in response. Dr. Mikkel Madsen steps into his plane- and steps out of Sigrun’s life, in all likelihood forever. Just another stupid story to tell at parties.

 

...which is why she’s so surprised when he turns up again, ten years later.


	2. Eide. Captain Eide.

TEN YEARS LATER

 

Sigrun settles into her seat, taking a long swig of the mulled mead they’ve provided for the attendants of the party. Uncle Trond is looking downright morose, surrounded by well-wishers and cake. 

 

The poor, grumpy old bat. You have to have fun sometimes! Sigrun resolves to cheer him up the only way she knows how: remind him of how much he’s not going to miss. Moving over towards the cake, she stops to pat him on the shoulder. 

 

“Happy retirement, Uncle Trond!”

 

He frowns up at her, unhappy expression juxtaposing sharply with a pink, furred birthday hat. She tries not to laugh. “Yes, yes, I know, I’m old.”

 

“Aw, Uncle Trond, don’t be sad! Although you’re really missing out on a lot. Remember that peacekeeping mission in Brazil?”

 

“I prefer not to.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, it was like a vacation! What I wouldn’t give to be back in the warmth…” Sigrun thinks fondly back on the sun, the sand, and the buff brazilian man who had offered to rub sunscreen into her back. Good times. (She had to reject him, of course- she was on the job- but every girl can dream). Then, like a mirage in a desert, a real face swirls out of her reverie- 

 

“Taru!” Snatching up a plate of cake, Sigrun leans back to give others space to serve their own. “How have you been!”

 

“Sigrun!” The portly woman looks more happy to see her than the situation warrants. Sigrun is instantly suspicious. “I’ve been great- it’s good to see you, actually! There’s a job I’ve got that could really use your skills.”

 

“What skills?” Okay, definitely suspicious. Sigrun hopes Taru doesn’t want her to kill someone, because no. “Army Skills or Diving Skills?” 

 

“Diving! There’s this lovely little reef over in Australia that a few friends and I have been meaning to investigate, and we’d really like some help.” Taru takes Sigrun’s elbow and steers her over to a chair across from Uncle Trond, who’s been listening in on the conversation with vague interest. “Isn’t that right, Trond?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

He takes another bite of cake. Sigrun plonks her plate right next to Taru and takes a bite as well. 

 

“So, Australia? Sounds like a nice mission- kinda like a vacation, am I right?”

 

“Yes! Yes, exactly! I’m so glad you’re on board.” Taru is beaming. 

 

Sigrun cuts herself another bite of cake. “So, what’s it pay?”

 

Taru’s smile freezes on her face. “Well, erm, above the board, it pays… er…” She scribbles the figure on a piece of napkin and pushes it at Sigrun. Sigrun tries to restrain her disappointment. 

 

“Really? That’s all?”

 

“Officially, yes. On, the, uh, on the unofficial side-“

 

“How long is this trip? Are food and board paid for? Who else would be going? Who’s leading the mission?” Sigrun’s not going to make her decisions until she knows the full picture. 

 

“Well, the trip would be for the entire winter- it’s summer over there, a perfect time for swimming- er, we would pay for food and board, although you’d be expected to fish a little bit- we’re planning on having a small crew.” Taru pauses, gives Sigrun another real smile. “And you would be the leader, of course! Well, if you accept. We’ve got another person in mind as well, so if you both accept we’ll have you as co-captains…” Taru keeps talking, but Sigrun tunes out. 

 

Captain? Sigrun would get to be captain? 

 

“…and anyway, the pay really isn’t that low, because we’re actually going to have a seperate- low-key, mind you -mission that will-“

 

“I’m in! Sign me up. I just finished my tour with the army, so I’ll just opt out of renewing my contract.” Sigrun gives Taru a thumbs up and picks up her plate, intending to hand it to the designated dishwashers. 

 

Taru’s frozen again, looking kindly bemused. “Oh! But- don’t you want to know about the other mission? It’s-“

 

Sigrun waves her off. “Eh, I’ll find that all out in your briefing. It’ll be cool to be a captain for once.” This time, Sigrun really does leave, ignoring whatever it is Taru’s asking about. She knows Sigrun’s email address, she’ll figure something out. 

 

-

 

Two weeks later, and Sigrun’s ready for anything. She’s brought her suitcase, her phone, and her diving duffle bag. All that’s left now is to meet her co-captain. 

 

Fumbling around briefly with her carry-on, Sigrun pulls out her phone and calls Taru. She feels kind of silly, standing here in the Bornholm airport without knowing what the person she’s meeting with looks like. 

 

“…Hello? Sigrun?”

 

“Hey, Taru! What does the other captain look like?”

 

“Erm. Tall, blond, heavyset? Blue eyes, I think-“

 

“Great, thanks, bye!” Sigrun hangs up. Scanning the crowd in earnest now, she makes her way over to the terminal, where she’s supposed to meet her coworker.

 

She must be lucky today, because she sees someone who matches the description perfectly-

 

Wait. She knows this guy. 

 

“You’re the one that nearly drowned me!” She reaches up and claps him on the back, grinning. “Nice to see you!” He frowns down at her. 

 

“You’re the one that nearly drowned and then blamed me for it!”

 

“Yep! It was great. Hey, are you captain of that conservation council mission in Australia?” She plops her bags down on a seat and waits for him to respond. 

 

She can see the instant it dawns on him. 

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeeeeeep! Sounds like fun, right?” Sigrun gives him a thumbs up.

 

“Hm.” He…. doesn’t seem to react at all. Weird. 

 

“Yeah, I remember you from Iceland- you were hilarious! Don’t remember your name, though.” She turns to face him fully. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves again?” She puts out her right hand and gives him her best meeting-people smile. “Hi! I’m Sigrun Eide! It looks like we’re going to be working together.” 

 

He sighs, but he puts his hand out as well, giving her a firm handshake. “Mikkel Madsen. Nice to meet you.”

 

Sigrun beams. “So, how’s it been? What’ve you been up to? Working on a useless pig farm, amiright?” She elbows him cheerfully.

 

“Yes, definitely.” He takes a long swig of his coffee, then stands up as the airport monitor calls their seat section. 

 

Sigrun won’t let herself be dissuaded. He’ll chat with her if it kills her! (Besides, it’s kind of boring just standing in line). She catches up with him quickly, her speed matching his longer strides, and links her elbow with his. “You’re in charge of the nerdy stuff for the mission, right? Sounds cool. What fish are you looking at?”

 

“White’s seahorses, actually. Endangered species. They only live in Australia.”

 

“Nice.” Sigrun knows _absolutely nothing_ about seahorses. “They’re the ones that, like… the guy gets pregnant, right?”

 

“Close enough.” He moves forward as the flight attendant scans his ticket. 

 

“Cool.” Why isn’t he getting more excited about this? Does Sigrun have to do all the work herself? “Anyway, I’ve been with the U.N. for the last few years. It’s been fun, but everyone needs a change once in a while- this’ll be like a vacation mission!”

 

“Hm.”

 

Well. You win some, you lose some. She’ll talk to him more later. 

 

Flash forward to landing, and Sigrun is completely ready to meet her new team. No. Scratch that, she’s been ready to meet her team ever since she got on the plane! This will be _amazing._

 

She nearly clocks Dr. Madsen over the head when she removes her carry-on, but it doesn’t matter- it’s time to see her little minions! She would be trembling with excitement if she hadn’t just finished a fifteen hour flight. She’s halfway through the airport when she realizes two things:

 

One, she doesn’t know who’s picking them up.

 

Two, she doesn't know what her crew looks like. Hmmm.

 

“Dr. Madsen! You seem like someone who read the files on our new subordinates.” She slings an arm around his shoulder. He takes it in stride. 

 

“Mikkel. Yes, I read the files.”

 

“So- where are they?”

 

“Well, one seems to be arguing with customs over there. Not sure about the other two, and the fourth has been in Australia for some time.”

 

Sigrun looks over to where he’s pointing, and sure enough- a boy is gesturing wildly at a duffel bag, arguing with the airport officials in swedish even though they only seem to understand english. She leans forward to try to listen in.

 

“I have a permit!” He looks torn between panic and anger. The airport officials stare at him, uncomprehending. It’s like a badly performed comedy skit. 

 

Sigrun decides that enough is enough and pulls Mikkel (still holding him by the shoulder) over to the group, which has now grown to include three customs officials.

 

“Mikkel, you speak english, right? Tell the nice men that our little fighter needs whatever it is in that bag.”

 

Mikkel confers with the officials, leaving Sigrun and the blond kid in a tense silence. Finally, Mikkel turns back around and faces the boy. “They say you have harpoons and signal flares.”

 

“Yeah! I have a permit for them!” He waves it more, as if it’s going to let him keep the harpoon or something. 

 

“You have a permit for fishing equipment.Signal flares aren’t classified that way.”

 

“But- but-“

 

“The officials will let you keep your harpoon if you hand over your flares.”

 

The kid’s face crumples into despair. “But- my signal flares!”

 

Sigrun can understand to a point, but he really needs to let this go. “Listen, little swede-“ She doesn’t know his name, oops, “- sometimes you need to just roll with the punches. I bet australians have some signal flares lying around! We can buy replacements.” 

 

“Oh- okay.” He looks very sad and droopy. Sigrun claps him on the back and tries to make up for his demeanor by beaming widely at the customs people.

 

One of them steps back. 

 

The others are engaged in a conversation with Mikkel, who has taken out the signal flares and is now paying some sort of fine. Oh well! Sigrun takes advantage of the momentary break in conversation and looks around the airport. She might not know what the others look like, but maybe she’ll be able to tell. 

 

“Hey, what’s your name?” She nudges the swede with her elbow. He jumps nearly a foot at the unexpected touch, which is a mix between funny and worrying. 

 

“E-emil Vasterstrom.” He’s rubbing his side now. Seriously? She didn’t hit him that hard. 

 

“Nice to meet you!” 

 

She turns to Mikkel and interrupts him with a whisper. “Hey, what do the other crew members look like- the ones that we haven’t met yet?”

 

“Cousins, one boy, one girl.” He whispers back. “White blond hair, both of them. Finnish.”

 

Well, that’s enough information to go on. She picks up her bags again. “I’m going to go try to find them. I’ll meet you at the exit at- erm-“ She checks her watch, only to realize she’s on the wrong timezone. Oops. “an hour from now.” 

 

Mikkel gives her the barest of nods. Now that that’s taken care of, she and Emil can test how well they work together by looking for the rest of the crew! 

 

“C’mon, Vasterstrom!”

 

“Um- okay?” He nearly trips over his own feet following after her, like an oversized blond puppy. Wow. 

 

She keeps an eye out as they move through the airport, keeping up chatter all the way. “So, Emil, how long have you been a diver?”

 

“I got my license last summer!”

 

Hm. “So, have you been on- on any dives?”

 

“Yes!” He looks uncomfortable. “Well- one.” Ergh. Really? “But I got my license! And I saw a huuuuuuge shark!”

 

Well, he’s not lacking in enthusiasm. Sigrun decides to keep an eye on him, though. Nothing worse than losing a diver because they didn’t know what they were doing. 

 

Then, out of the distance, a timid voice comes into hearing. “H- hallo?”

 

Sigrun spins around, scanning the crowd for the caller. A portly girl steps forward, waving. “H- hi! Are you Sigrun Eide?”

 

“Yes!” Sigrun grins down at her. She must be the history intern. 

 

She looks awed, of course. “Wow! You’re so tall!” The girl sticks out a hand to shake.

 

“Yes, yes I am!” Sigrun grins widely, shaking the hand vigorously. “What’s your name, fluffy-head?”

 

“Tuuri Hotakainen!” Another blond finn walks up behind her, lanky and looking uncomfortable around all the new people. Tuuri cuffs him around the ears, says something scolding in Finnish, then turns back to Sigrun. 

 

“Sorry, that’s my cousin, he doesn’t speak any scandinavian languages so I’ll be translating for him- it’s so SO nice to finally meet you, and it’s really cool to be here too, your job seems so interesting and I looked you up online and I thought all your past missions sounded SUPER cool and I just can’t WAIT to finally be able to investigate a shipwreck and I’m rambling, sorry.” She gives Sigrun a sheepish smile.

 

Sigrun nods to her cousin. “What’s his name?” 

 

“Lalli! Lalli Hotakainen.” 

 

Right, the deep-sea bell diver. Sigrun wants to ask about his experience with shipwrecks, but a check of her watch shows that it’s already been forty-five minutes and she really doesn’t want to leave Mikkel hanging. “I’d love to ask more about you guys, but we need to go meet up with your other captain at the exit of the airport. You up for the walk, kiddo?”

 

“Of course!” Tuuri bounces along behind her, looking at everything as though it’s not completely boring. Sigrun smiles as she hears them introducing themselves. 

 

“Hi! I’m Tuuri!”

 

“Hello, I’m-“

 

“I know! You’re our diver, Emil!”

 

“Yeah-“

 

“And don’t worry about your pants, mine tear in the crotch all the time too!”

 

Sigrun hears, unmistakably, the sound of extreme embarrassment. She has to stifle a laugh, wondering how she missed the- apparently large- hole in Emil’s pants when she was introduced to him. Emil, face completely red, hunches his shoulders and ceases conversation for a while. 

 

Forging ahead, they reach a pair of gleaming doors- and waiting behind them is Mikkel, accompanied by a couple in shabby clothing. They’re holding a luggage trolley, and Mikkel seems to be trying to stop them from loading his bags onto it. 

 

“No, I’m fine. No, really. I can really-"

 

“Hey, Mikkel! I found them!” Sigrun pulls Tuuri forward to demonstrate. 

 

“Ah. Good.” He points to the luggage cart. “Do any of you need this?”

 

The Finnish boy walks forward, sits on the luggage cart with his bags, then falls asleep. 

 

Hm.

 

Before Sigrun can intervene, the shabbily-dressed man steps forward. “Listen up, everybody! I’m Torbjorn, and this is my wife Siv, and we’re some of the coordinators of this mission! We’re on a rather tight schedule, so we need to be on our way. First we’ll stop at our headquarters in Perth and brief you all on the mission. Tomorrow morning, you’ll head out to the coast and start your research!” 

 

He moves forward, claps Emil on the shoulder, then motions everyone towards a van waiting in the parking lot. Tuuri, after some angry muttering in Finnish, manages to get her cousin off of the cart, and everything goes quite smoothly. Even the van ride goes quite well, considering that Lalli is violently carsick and Emil completely embarrassed the whole way.

 

By the time they've reached headquarters, Sigrun is sure:  this is going to be a fantastic mission. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that my document title for this is "nerds swimming", there is actually very little diving involved (yet).


	3. Cook, meet Captain

Headquarters turns out to be a fancy term for “a house in Perth”. Surprising everyone, Emil is the first person greeted by the three children that burst out of the house. Blond, energetic, and quite terrifying, the elementary schoolers are distracted enough that Sigrun can take a detour around them and go straight inside.

 

“Emil! Emil! Let’s play hair salon!”

 

“Erm, well-“

 

“Emil! How long are you staying here?”

 

“Uh-“

 

Sigrun rolls her eyes. If the kid knows people in Perth, why doesn’t he speak english?

 

Mikkel sidles into the house behind her, closing the door carefully. They move together further down the hallway, looking for anything that could resemble a control room, until- yes! An ancient radio set lists to the left side in what seems to be a glorified closet. Sigrun goes and gets a chair.

 

 

Mikkel follows her, sitting down at the radio and frowning at the buttons. “It seems they’re in even worse financial straits than expected.”

 

“Well, what did you expect? No one with actual money looks for shipwrecks.” Sigrun sits down as well, looking longingly over at the kitchen. What she could really use right now is coffee.

 

They sit in silence for a while, at a complete loss about what to do. Finally, the couple- Siv and Torbjorn- manage to make their way past the unruly children, bringing Emil, Tuuri, and Lalli with them.

 

 

Squeezing everyone into the radio room is impossible, so after some maneuvering Sigrun, Siv, Mikkel, and Tuuri are inside, while Emil and Torbjorn stand in the hallway. Torbjorn clears his throat self importantly.

 

“All right! You’ll be setting off first thing tomorrow, so we’ll brief you now. Siv, if you could pull up the map?”

 

Siv, after some twisting around Mikkel, manages to find a large roll of paper and unfurls it. There are several red X’s drawn along the coast.

 

“Right! As you can see, the ship we’re looking for is the Tryall, the oldest known shipwreck in Australia. It’s supposed to have been wrecked off of the Montabello Islands, so you’ll be flown up there tomorrow to see your new boat. We’ll expect for you to either camp on the islands or sleep on the boat for the entirety of the six month mission.” He nods ad Siv again. “Siv, could you show them the timetable?”

 

Siv pulls out another piece of paper and hands it to Sigrun. After realizing that it’s totally boring, Sigrun hands it over to Mikkel. He’s a scientist, he’s used to boring things.

 

“Hm.”

 

“Yes, we’ll have you out there for six months- you’ll have brief refueling stops, but you’ll mostly be doing research and looking for the Tryall. Tuuri’s been studying the wreck, so she should have some idea of where it could be.”

 

They all nod. Tuuri raises her hand.

 

“Um, are we going to look exclusively for the Tryall? Because there are several other valuable shipwrecks around the west coast of Australia and I think it could be really valuable to get those too.”

 

Torbjorn smiles at her. “Any shipwreck is fine! We’re looking for profit, remember that. Also, Mikkel needs to be able to carry out his seahorse research wherever you go, so you’ll need to stay within their habitat.”

 

Mikkel frowns vaguely. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I should be able to collect all my data within the first two months, and then we can dedicate all our time to trying to find wrecks.”

 

“Great!” Torbjorn claps him on the back, then seems to regret it. He gives everyone another huge grin. “Anyway, you’ll be leaving at 6:00, so you should head to bed- we’ve set up some bunks for you. We’ll drive you to the domestic airport, and then you’ll fly up to your base of operations on the coast.”

 

He directs them all to a legitimate room this time, complete with a pair of bunk beds, a fold out cot, and two air mattresses. Sigrun raises her eyebrows at Mikkel over Emil’s shoulder- he shrugs back at her and mouths “what did you expect.”

 

He has a point.

 

The team shuffles quickly into their sleeping gear, sorting out the beds- Lalli immediately falls asleep on one of the air mattresses. Mikkel takes the bottom bunk, Emil takes the air mattress (following a very awkward conversation with Tuuri), Tuuri takes a bed, and Sigrun heads over to turn off the lights.

 

“Sleep well, everyone!”

 

For all she knows, they do- she falls into a quick, deep sleep.

 

-

 

Sigrun wakes up at 5:50 to see Mikkel already awake, checking his email on a laptop and writing something down in a notebook. Swinging her legs off of the bed, she jumps down to read over his shoulder.

 

“Preparing your research on those seahorses?”

 

“I’m going to be looking at how their population varies with different intrusive species and birds present.”

 

Sigrun…. barely understood that, but whatever. “Sounds super cool!” She claps him on the back for good measure. “So, do you want to wake up the kids, or should I?”

 

He looks up and shrugs. “Would you mind waking them? I want to finish this sentence.”

 

“Sure!” She straightens, then looks out at the kids. Sleeping peacefully, all of them. The Finnish scout turns over in his sleep, hands pawing at the air. Weird.

 

“ALL RIGHT, TIME TO HEAD OUT!” Sigrun bellows. Emil wakes up with a start and sits up suddenly, hitting his head on a nearby bedpost. He grimaces. Sigrun can see a bruise starting to form.

 

“Va?”

 

“We’re leaving, little swede. Get your stuff together.”

 

He grumbles, but he goes to the bathroom to get changed while Tuuri stretches. Mikkel stands up, closing his notebook.

 

“I’ll go see if our hosts are ready to drive us to the airfield.”

 

“Good luck!” Sigrun waves him out, then changes into her proper clothes and slings her bag over her shoulder, heading out into the foyer with Tuuri. The others are already getting in the car. Siv honks the horn.

 

“Bye!”

 

She’s waving at the demon children from yesterday, who are waving at Emil and asking when he’ll be back. Emil doesn’t respond.

 

After a quick reshuffling of bags, Siv hits the gas and they’re off to the airfield.

 

Ignoring the bouncing of the bags as they go over potholes, Mikkel gestures to the purple bruise on Emil’s face. “Do you want me to help with that?”

 

“What?” The kid must be having trouble parsing danish.

 

“Your face. Do you want me fix your face.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with my face!” Emil frowns, then turns to Tuuri and whispers “ _Did he just call me ugly?”_

 

Mikkel looks fed up. Maybe it’s time for Sigrun to intervene. She rummages around in her bag, eventually coming up with a mirror. “Here.”

 

After a quick look, she can tell that Emil understands- he’s got a giant purple spot across his forehead. His face transforms into a look of perfect, unbridled panic. “What’s that on my face?!”

 

“A bruise.” Mikkel, as always, is completely deadpan.

 

“You can get bruises on your _face?!”_

 

“Yes.” Mikkel folds his hands in his lap. “They often lead to cancer.”

 

“ _CANCER?!”_

 

“It’s quite easily prevented. Do you want a bandage?”

 

Sigrun tunes out the rest of the conversation, snickering quietly in her head. Mikkel isn’t doing any harm, just having a little fun. Might as well let him get on with it. The rest of the ride passes in quiet calm, interrupted only by occasional queasy moaning by the Finn. Sigrun can't help but wonder how he'll deal with being on a boat. 

-

There’s a sharp, hot wind blowing by the time they make it to the airport. Sigrun realizes quickly why they could afford to take a plane up to the islands- it’s a military flight on a small plane, barely even big enough to fit everyone. There are three other passengers.

 

Sigrun rolls her eyes at Mikkel's disappointed expression and loads her bags onto the plane. It’s two hours of miserable turbulence, but no one dies, and the only one who’s really affected is Lalli. Sigrun gives him a comforting pat on the back as they disembark, then turns to Mikkel.

 

“So, who’re we supposed to meet?”

 

“Apparently, someone from the conservation council. They’ll be holding a sign for us.” He turns to scan the crowd. Sigrun follows his lead, looking around until-

 

“YOU!”

 

It’s the braided guy! Wow, he looks a lot older. Sigrun supposes being angry all the time will do that to a guy.

 

“YOU DARE TO SHOW ME YOUR FACE AGAIN?!” He’s glaring and pointing at Mikkel. Sigrun can’t think of any scenario where this could go well. Especially since he's the one they're supposed to meet. 

 

“He’s here for the conservation council mission.” She points to the sign he’s holding, labelled _SEAHORSE EXPEDITION._ “We’ll be gone after we get our boat.”

 

Her words seem to pacify the general, although he still narrows his eyes at Mikkel. “YOU BETTER NOT SAY ANYTHING TO MY EMPLOYEES.”

 

They walk to the car in relative silence: Sigrun can see Mikkel in the corner of her eye as he takes the bandage off Emil, whispering something to the kid to make him go red and embarrassed again.

 

Oh well.

 

The car ride, too, is incredibly awkward: Mikkel opens his mouth partially several times, only to close it again as the admiral gives him a scathing glare. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, they pull up to the dock.

 

“YOU’VE BEEN GIVEN ONE OF OUR RESEARCH VESSELS. WE EXPECT YOU TO COME BACK EVERY THREE WEEKS TO REFUEL AND COLLECT MORE FOOD.” The admiral turns down one of the docks, coming up on what Sigrun assumes is their boat. It’s not the prettiest, sure, but it seems to be working, and it isn’t completely falling off like the last boat on the row.

 

“Right!” Sigrun shakes his hand firmly, then turns to the boat. “I think we should be fine from here.” She strategically shuffles the admiral away as her crew board the boat. Then a stray thought occurs to her- “Wait. Aren’t we supposed to pick up our cook?”

 

The admiral huffs loudly. “HE’S COMING IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR SO. LOOK OUT FOR THE REDHEAD, AND YOU’LL FIND HIM. JUST DON’T LEAVE UNTIL HE GETS HERE.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves them, fishing a megaphone out of his coat and yelling at some other hapless crew.

 

Right. Sigrun can figure that out. “All aboard!”

 

The next fifteen minutes are filled pleasantly with loading boxes onto the ship and looking through food packages (Mikkel is insulted by the lack of fresh fruit, but Sigrun thinks it’s better that way). Finally, a small spot with a large braid of red hair appears on the dock.

 

“Hi!” Her new cook comes onboard cautiously and shakes her hand, introducing himself. "I'm Reynir! I'll be your cook. I know not being a diver might be a liability, but I've been working on learning how to swim, so I probably won't die if I fall off! I mean, I'm still kind of unsure, but whatever, And I make really great potato salad!"

 

Sigrun is pleased for all of two seconds (Potato salad! Yes!), until she processes what he’s just said. 

 

“ _What do you mean, you can’t swim?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow burn, I know, but we'll be swimming next chapter! (Also, have I mentioned how much I love the Admiral?)


	4. B is for Barracuda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I can update!

“He can’t- he can’t swim?! We have a  _ cook  _ for our  _ boat  _ who can’t  _ swim?!”  _ Sigrun might be overreacting, but she is not on this mission to babysit hazards to everyone’s health! She can feel one of her eyelids twitching. “Honestly! Next you’re going to tell me he can’t even fish!”

 

The cook- Reynir- shuffles his feet. “Well, um…”

 

“HE CAN’T EVEN FISH?!” Without permission, Sigrun’s body freezes up with rage. After a few seconds of steaming silence, she finally throws her arms up and turns to Mikkel. “Useless! We might as well eat  _ him!”  _ Mikkel doesn’t seem very concerned, which is almost as irritating as having a useless crew member. “He’s a complete liability! We should leave him here- at least then we won’t be stuck trying to keep a complete civvie alive!” 

 

Still unconcerned, Mikkel takes hold of her shoulders from behind, nods genially to the new cook, then steers Sigrun into the cockpit. Livid, Sigrun wrenches out of his grip the instant they get inside. “What- what’s this about?”

 

“Calm down.”

 

“I’m not going to be calm about this! This is a serious danger to everyone!”

 

Mikkel just stands in front of her, arms folded. When Sigrun finally stops sputtering, he sighs. “Listen. I know this is a horrible idea. We have to take him anyway.”

 

“I’m not risking the life of my crew for-“

 

“His parents are part of the governing board of the conservation council.”

 

“Oh.” Sigrun deflates, then sits down. “Huh.” 

 

“Yes.”

 

They share, perhaps for the first time, a look of complete understanding. Finally, Mikkel cracks his back and moves to leave the cockpit. “I think,” He says, careful, “That I’m going to go show our new cook his kitchen.” 

 

Sigrun manages to nod, then stands up as well. “Right! I’ll get the rest of the crew set up in their quarters. We should set out as soon as possible.”

 

As she leaves, Sigrun thinks she can almost see a relieved smile forming on Mikkel’s face. Must be a trick of the light. 

 

-

 

They set off very quickly after that. Sigrun watches her crew work very efficiently, a satisfied smile on her face: she isn’t driving the boat because she doesn’t have an australian license, but the fuzzy intern seems to be doing quite well.

 

Or, uh. “DODGE! GIANT ROCK!” 

 

Tuuri manages to swing the wheel sideways, only scratching the boat along the side of the boat. Whatever, it’s fixable. Sigrun scratches her back, yawning, then goes to find her diving gear belowdeck. 

 

“Hey, Mikkel!”

 

“What?” Her fellow captain is going through papers again, tacking a map up in the main cabin. 

 

“Get ready to start your research- we’re coming up on the first data collection spot.”

 

He nods, then picks up a sheaf of papers and moves towards the “office”- otherwise known as a glorified closet on the tiny boat they’re going to call home for the week. “About the research-” He turns back to look Sigrun in the eye. “I’m going to need someone else to dive- I was banned from having a license in Australia.”

 

That… sounds like a really cool story, but Sigrun knows better than to ask. “Okay! The kid and I can go look around, set up cameras or whatever.” She gives him a thumbs up. “Anything else I should know?”

 

“Not that I can think of now.”

 

He finally leaves the cabin, giving Sigrun space to change into her wetsuit. By the time she emerges, they’ve anchored the boat in the kind of blue, clear ocean that’s shown in magazines. The braidy kid looks enthralled. 

 

She pats Emil on the back. “Hey, kid, we’re gonna go check out the water and set up some research equipment for Mikkel. Get ready for it.”

 

He nods, then scurries back inside. 

  
  
  


Before Emil even returns Mikkel’s brought her a large diving bag full of tech. Sigrun, frowning, stares at the cameras vaguely as she pulls on her fins. Mikkel rolls his eyes. 

 

“They’re pre-set. Just stick them on something solid and it’ll be fine.”

 

Sigrun grins. “Great!” Then, with a look over her shoulder- Emil looks about ready- she swings her legs over the side of the boat, grabs the duffel bag, and plunges into the water.

 

The change is instant: far from the regular insanity of her boatside life, all sounds are dampened underneath the clear clue waves. Sigrun, smiling behind her mask, does a flip before turning onto her back and floating back to the surface to wait for Emil.

 

The young swede, sadly, wasn’t being humble when he said that he was a new diver. Sigrun waits, wincing, as he stumbles while pulling his fins on and falls off the boat. 

 

Mikkel wiggles his eyebrows at her, then disappears belowdeck. 

 

Sigrun flips back onto her stomach and kicks off to find Emil. He’s flailing in the water, caught up in something-

 

The anchor line. If Sigrun could frown right now, she would. She paddles slowly over, then gently untangles Emil’s fin. As he turns upright again, she beckons for him to follow her: they only have an hour or so before it gets dark, and she wants to make sure they have enough time to set up everything. 

 

Under the water, even Emil’s incompetence is acceptable: she’ll teach him how to dive properly by the time they’re done. Closing her eyes partway, she enjoys the feel of the water sliding past her skin as she goes into a protected cove, perfect for little seahorses. 

 

Seaweed tangles in her fingers as she rummages through the duffel bag, coming up with a couple of temperature probes and three cameras. Handing the cameras to Emil, Sigrun swims into a niche in the surrounding coral and rock and stabs one of the probes into the sand. She puts her hand up for the other.

 

Nothing.

 

Emil’s hand taps her on the shoulder. She can feel his fingers trembling. 

 

Eyebrows drawn closely together, she turns around, ready to reprimend him, when she sees what he’s so scared of- a barracuda. He nods towards it, then tries to swim away. She shakes her head, pats him on the shoulder, then pulls out her diving knife and hands it to him.

 

Hoping he gets the message, she turns back to the cove, camera ready-

A burst of bubbles comes from behind her as Emil swims away like a shot, the barracuda in hot pursuit. Silly kid. 

 

Sigrun rolls her eyes and places the final camera, then seizes the empty diving bag and makes a beeline for Emil. As he turns around, the barracuda (why did he even anger it?) tries to attack Sigrun as well. Sigrun, ever quick to the draw, captures the barracuda in the bag.

 

She pulls Emil over to the coral outcrop where the fish came from, then shows him how she releases the barracuda so it only sees the safety of its home and not the divers behind it. Then, as the barracuda slithers into the rock, they back away very slowly- and start to rise to the surface.

 

Sigrun yawns, popping her ears, as she takes off her mask and breathes true air for the first time in a while. She notes, with surprise, that they nearly ran out of air in their tanks while underwater- their mission must have taken longer than she anticipated. Grinning wildly, she pulls Emil up as well. 

 

“HEY! MIKKEL!”

 

Her co-captain appears above deck, then disappears and comes back with a rope ladder. Always prepared, Sigrun’s taken off her fins and throws them up with the empty bag as she begins to ascend. 

 

Stretching gently- her muscles ache slightly, although it’s nothing new- she grins at Mikkel. “It was awesome!”

 

She turns back to Emil, who has a vague smile plastered on his face. “It was great, right? Man, I wish I’d come to Australia before to dive. I’ve never encountered a barracuda right away like that! You did well, little buddy, although maybe you should be more careful, and frankly I don’t know why you made the barracuda angry in the first place-”

 

Emil throws up over the side of the ship. Huh. He might have been more rattled than Sigrun expected. Maybe it was the swaing motion of the ship after the calm of the ocean?

 

Distracted, she hardly notices as Mikkel pulls her belowdeck and into the kitchen, where the new cook has made a fish stew.

 

“H-Hi, captain…”

 

She sits down, beaming once more. “Serve whatever poison you’ve made to me!”

 

As she scarfs it down, the crew starts to filter in, and by the time she’s finished her first dinner onboard, their entire group is around the small table.

Sigrun, smiling, leans back. It’s been a good day. 


	5. Seahorses are for nerds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharks! Turtles! Mikkel's bad cooking!

A week later, and Sigrun is two seconds from DEATH. Well. That might be a tiny exaggeration, but whatever- this mission is completely, amazingly, boring. 

 

Sighing, she swings her legs over the side of the boat and halfheartedly throws a few crumbs at the birds. They have an alternate, cool mission, yes, but the crew’s full focus right now is on seahorse research.

 

Wait. Was that something moving in the water?

 

Sigrun leans forward, looking out, and- 

 

“MIKKEL!”

 

“What?” A bushy blond head sticks out from belowdecks. 

 

“One of your sensors just came undone. I’m gonna go put it back.” She waves vaguely at the floating probe, then moves to pick up her flippers. 

 

“Actually…” He pulls himself up fully. “You should take someone with you.”

 

“Great! Wake up the swede.” 

 

He frowns. “Last time you took him on a mission, it didn’t go so well. Maybe I should go.”

 

Sigrun scoffs. “With that beard? Waaaay too much friction. Besides, you don’t even have a license.” She waves off his response, heading into the cabin and pulling on her wetsuit. “Look, I’ll take the swede, and we won’t have any-” She cocks her head. Is the boat… swaying? And- is that-

 

“aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” The scream is cut off by a splash. The boat sways again, presumably because someone’s just  _ fallen off the boat.  _

 

Sigrun doesn’t bother finishing putting on her wetsuit: instead, she rushes out with the sleeves dangling from her hips and swings overboard before she even has time to think about it. 

 

She comes face-to-face with a great white shark. 

 

“Mmmmmph!” Like it or not, even her usual nerves of steel fail her for the brief few seconds before she can retrieve her knife. Handle firmly enclosed, she paddles away as fast as she can. She feels relieved when she sees that the great white is distracted- only to see that it’s sticking its nose into the space between the anchor and the rotor.

 

The space that her blindly flailing cook has managed to get stuck into. 

 

If Sigrun could swear underwater, she would. She goes through her options quickly. She can’t run away, otherwise Reynir or whatever his name is will die. She can’t attack the shark alone because she’ll die.  

 

Thankfully, the shark doesn’t seem particularly hungry, only curious. Sigrun’s only choice here is to bring in reinforcements, use them to distract the shark, then bring the cook to the surface- after all, he can’t swim, so he’ll need to be babied. 

 

Sticking her head abovewater, gasping, she signals frantically for someone, anyone, to join her in the water. 

 

The swede, thankfully, charges in after being patted on the back by Mikkel, holding a set of distracting brightly colored buoys. Sigrun points vaguely at the cook and at the shark. Emil gets it right away, throwing the bouys in front of the shark and away from the boat.

 

The shark, seeing something else distracting, follows the orange streak of color. Sigrun swoops in before it can come back and hauls Reynir over the side of the boat, pulling Emil after her and emerging, sopping, onto the deck.

 

Mikkel hurries over and wraps them in towels, saying something to the cook in icelandic. Sigrun shighs, then looks over the side of the boat. The shark is still there- and there’s a red flush in the water.

 

She gazes over at the other two accusingly. Sure enough, Reynir is bleeding. He must have been nicked by the boat. 

 

Well, that’s enough of that. “You! Cook!” She waves her arms angrily, shaking off the towel. “What was that? What was the point? How did you even fall in!”

 

There’s a period where all her words are processed, then a sheepish grin. “Well, um, I saw this turtle, and she was really injured! And I just wanted to save her, you know? And I was leaning over to look at her, when…”

 

Sigrun huffs angrily. “Turtle? You did all this for a sea turtle? Well, it’s still going to die, so you should feel bad.”   
  


That’s when the real guilty look sets in. Sigrun smells blood (metaphorically).

 

She gives Reynir a second to confess. No luck. 

 

“It is dead, right? What are you not telling me?”

 

He unbuttons his shirt. 

 

There’s a sea turtle in his shirt. 

 

There is.

 

A sea turtle.

 

In her cook’s shirt. 

 

A  _ sea turtle.  _

 

It’s got its head in a plastic six pack, and it looks cute or whatever, but still. 

 

Sea turtle. 

 

Shirt. 

 

Sigrun can’t even say anything, she’s just completely baffled. In all her years of weird shenanigans, this is the strangest thing she’s actually seen someone do. 

 

Emil, bless his heart, seems to be thinking the same thing. He opens his mouth, looking confused and upset and kinda angry, and-

 

“Shouldn’t it be in a hospital or something? It needs medical attention! Dr. Madsen, don’t you have some expertise here?”

 

Sigrun is surrounded by  _ crazy people.  _

 

And Mikkel goes along with it! She watches, gobsmacked, as her co-captain, previously thought to be the only sane person on this boat, takes the turtle inside, cuts the plastic off the turtle, gives the turtle a little bandage, creates a tank for the turtle, and lets her crew keep the turtle. 

 

Ugh. It needs a name now, too. 

Sigrun, begrudgingly, accepts the fact that she’ll have to be partisan in this nonsense after her newbie suggests the most outrageously swedish name possible. 

 

“No way, I’m not calling it that.”

 

“Well, you think of a name then! I don’t hear any other suggestions.”

 

“I’m quite partial to Magnus,” contributes Mikkel. Since Reynir is still indisposed, he’s donned a ridiculous apron and is making what looks like roadkill. 

 

“Pffft, no. Dumb and a boy name.”

 

“It’s a turtle! Do turtles even have gender?” this comes from Tuuri, sweet child that she is. 

 

“Yes, turtles have gender.” Mikkel spoons out some stew and tries, unsuccessfully, to make someone take the bowl. “I suppose you’re right about the gender.”

 

Sigrun rolls her eyes. “This discussion is stupid anyway. It’s a turtle! I’m going to keep calling it a  skilpadde .”

 

The fluffy intern nods. “Merikilpikonna! Only that’s a bit long… merry?”

 

The cook smiles excitedly. “Skjaldbaka!”

 

“ Havssköldpadda… Havssi?” Emil pokes at the turtle to see if it’ll respond to its name. It doesn’t respond, because it’s a turtle. 

 

Mikkel points his spoon at it. “Havskildpadde.”

 

The turtle eats a bit of lettuce. Apparently satisfied, Mikkel turns back to the task of forcing someone to eat what he’s made. 

 

Sigrun snorts. “On to more important things- Mikkel, what’s up with your research?”

 

“Oh, well, since we’ve been here for a week I’ve been able to-” he hands her a bowl while she’s distracted- “-I’ve been able to start a data collection. We can leave for a couple of weeks to go treasure hunting, come back, and collect the final data then. I’ll write up my report once we’re back on land.”

 

That’s good enough for Sigrun. She leans back, taking a bite of stew unconciously and immidietly regretting it. “Bleh! What’s in this?”

 

Mikkel remains unaffected. “The rations we were given. Eat up.”

“You put vegetables in, didn’t you.”

 

He gives her a  _ look.  _ “You have to go treasure hunting tomorrow, right? You need your strength.”

 

-

 

Skip forward a few hours and a good night of sleep, and Sigrun’s in her best captain cap and at the helm. They’re making their way north for a look at a possible crash site: according to Tuuri, there’s some ancient gold or whatever. To be honest, Sigrun stopped listening as soon as they got the map.

 

“All right, listen up! The plan is this: Emil and I go in first, check it out. Then Lalli goes down in the bell to check the depths off of the shelf. Emil, if there’s a shark or something, don’t freak out. Reynir, if you fall in again, I’m not rescuing you.”

 

Everyone nods. Reynir raises a hand. “Um, can I ask a question?”

 

“No.”

 

Mikkel rolls his eyes. “We’ll be fine. Probably won’t find much worth selling the first try.”

 

Tuuri looks like she’s about to burst with excitement. Sigrun pats her ont he head as she makes her way to the wheel. 

 

“We’re approaching!” 

 

She makes a sharp turn around a sandbar and turns off the motor to drift towards a hopeful looking deep spot. The radar pings- sure enough, they’re right near the remains of a wreck. 

 

Sigrun heads out to show Reynir how to put down anchor- he might was well be useful for something. Mikkel stands by and gives occasional useless comments. 

 

“Make sure to wear gloves, or the rope might remove your hands.”

 

“Mikkel!”

 

He gives her a languid raise of the eyebrows. “It could happen.”

 

Sigrun tries to look disapproving, but she snorts anyway. The kid is practically trembling.    
  


“Oh, loosen up, braidy. Put your back into it!”

 

He throws the anchor with all his might. 

It lands in the boat. 

 

Sighing, Sigrun picks up the anchor and sends it overboard the right way. It’s only as she’s dusting off her hands that she hears a hopeful plea from behind her. 

 

“Captain? Um, I’m having some trouble here!”

 

What  _ now? _

 

Sigrun heads back to find out. She swears to herself silently that if it's a shark, she's going to go in the water and chase it off herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole all the turtle names from google translate, so if you have a better way to say it please tell me! : )
> 
> Kind of a weird chapter, but I needed a transition, so there you go. Next chapter involves treasure hunting and trash ships, yay!


	6. Mechanical Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun has a lot of shitty days: the fic.

 

It’s not a shark. It’s a giant rock- and, for some reason, the boat’s started moving. 

 

“Turn the engine off!” Sigrun yells, moving forward. Tuuri looks back at her, her eyes teared up with frustration.

 

“I can’t! I came over when we started moving, but it won’t turn off!”

 

Tuuri is straining with all her might to steer the boat away from the approaching rocks- but the wheel is slipping in a very concerning way, and Sigrun can tell immediately that Tuuri won’t be able to hold on long enough to save the ship. 

 

Thinking fast, Sigrun jumps forward and takes the wheel, using all of her might to move it to the right- but something’s caught. She can’t control the wheel at all: some malfunction has made it so the movement doesn’t translate to the rudder. 

 

The rock gets closer, and closer, and Sigrun takes a deep breath. She’s seen this before. She knows where this situation leads. 

 

There’s no time for deep consideration. 

 

“GET OUT! GET A LIFEJACKET!” Sigrun shoves Tuuri out of the cockpit, hoping desperately that they’ll all make it out of this alive. “GET BRAIDY AND YOUR COUSIN!”

 

Thinking fast, heart beating so rapidly that she thinks it might burst out of her chest, Sigrun sprints to the starboard side of the boat- and runs right into Mikkel. 

 

“What’s going on? Why are we moving?”

 

He’s holding a clipboard under his arm, but as the ship gives a strange lurch forwards he drops it, stumbling backwards. Sigrun swears under her breath: the anchor isn’t giving them much help at this point.

 

“WE’RE HEADING STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE ROCKS!” She yells, running at full speed towards the starboard lifeboat. She’s not generally one to panic, but in this situation they have to move fast.

 

Thankfully Mikkel seems to grasp the urgency of the situation. He sets his jaw and runs after her. Even on the rocking deck, he’s able to move very quickly, and she’s only been untying the lifeboat for a few seconds when he joins her. 

 

“What happened?” He asks, straining to make himself heard over the engine, which has moved from a subtle rumbling to a full-on roar. 

 

“NO IDEA! WE HAVE TO LEAVE-“

 

“WHAT ABOUT THE OTHERS?” 

 

Sigrun stands up and looks across the boat. All four of the little ones are jumping over the side into the other lifeboat. “THEY’VE LEFT! WE HAVE TO GO!”

 

He nods, then starts cranking the handle to lower the lifeboat- andthen, just as the ship begins to ground itself, Sigrun follows him over the side. 

 

There isn’t any time to waste once they’ve gotten in the lifeboat: Sigrun takes one oar and Mikkel another, and with short, fast strokes they move as quickly as possible in the opposite direction of the boat. 

 

They haven’t made it very far when Sigrun hears a sickening crunch- and as she watches, her very first commanded ship is crushed into the sharp rocks.

 

Holding back tears- Eides don’t cry- Sigrun puts her back into it, taking her co-captain as far away from the wreck as she can. It should be easy to ground themselves, since they’re so close to the sandbar.

 

Yet even as she’s sighing and wondering if their radio will work on the island, the boat stops moving when she rows. 

 

It starts moving out to sea, instead. 

 

“Shit!” Sigrun can’t believe this. “Mikkel, row harder! We have to get out of this current!”

 

Mikkel rows, but they’re getting further and further out at sea. After a few seconds Sigrun realizes why- she’s forgotten the biggest rule of riptides. Muttering curses under her breath, she scrambles back and turns the boat perpendicular to the tide, then scrambles back and starts to row once more. 

 

They finally begin to make progress, but at this point the island they had been aiming at is nothing but a distant speck. 

 

There are no words to be said: Sigrun and Mikkel just row, both understanding that this is their only way to rejoin their subordinates. Still, as they grow closer.. Sigrun begins to get a bad feeling. 

 

It’s getting close to sunset, now, and she turns to Mikkel even as she wants nothing more than to go to bed and wake up to a different day where none of this has happened. 

 

“Madsen.”

 

“What?”

 

“Is it just me, or does this island look different than the one the ship crashed on?”

 

He stares at her for a second, as if trying to parse the meaning of her words, then turns and looks at the island. She can see the exact moment when he realizes that it is, in fact, a different island. His face loses what little color he had in the first place, and he turns back to her almost at once. 

 

“How did we lose it?”

 

“Must’ve turned too fast,” Sigrun says, already miserable. “All these islands look the same until you’re up close.”

 

A crunching sound reverberates through the bottom of the boat: they’ve made ground. Mikkel swallows, then lets out a long sigh. “Well.”

 

“The boat works.” Sigrun’s mind is already working doubletime. “Let’s go out there again, maybe leave some of the excess weight on this island, and get back to where we came from. It shouldn’t be too hard to-“

 

Mikkel rolls his eyes at her. “It’s too dark. We’ll just get lost again.”

 

He stands up, a bulky outline in the dying light. “We have to make camp here tonight. We’ll look for the kids in the morning.”

 

Sigrun tries to argue with him, not even sure what she’s doing anymore- it’s been a very shitty day- but he’s already off the boat, looking around under the seat for their emergency supplies.

 

If she was a different woman, Sigrun would be tempted to sit on the boat until sunrise, feeling sorry for herself and worrying about her crew. As it is, she lets herself sigh one last time, then jumps out and starts looking for some spare wood. 

 

-

 

 

It takes an hour, but by the time the last of the light has gone, Sigrun’s sitting on a log next to a fire they’ve made on the beach, watching Mikkel as he nestles their cans of rations on the hottest embers. 

 

As if he can feel her gaze, Mikkel looks up and raises a single sardonic eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to help?”

 

Sigrun rolls her eyes at him. “I would if you were actually in need of assistance. As it is, I think I’m fine watching.”

He rocks back on his heels, then moves over to join her on the log. It’s a cold night despite the steaming heat of the day, and Sigrun bites back a shiver as she moves over to give him room. 

 

“Shouldn’t be long,” Mikkel says, seemingly having mistaken her stare as impatience for food. “The cans conduct heat pretty well.”

 

She nods, although food is the last thing on her mind at the moment. A breeze moves through their “camp”: she can’t hold back a shiver. 

 

Focusing on the fire, she puts her hands as close as she dares, but she can’t seem to get any feeling back into them: all her warmth seems to be concentrated on the line of contact from her shoulder to her thigh where she and Mikkel are touching. 

 

It’s a small log, and when Sigrun feels Mikkel stand up she can’t help but feel a bit disappointed: he may be a smug asshole, but he is warm. 

 

Still, when he leaves it isn’t to get another seat, as she first suspected. Instead he returns with the single thermal blanket provided in the emergency kit. He sits down again, not shying away from the returned contact, and wraps the cloth around them both. 

 

She tries not to read too much into the fact that his arm is wrapped around her shoulders and fails miserably: she’s obviously hallucinating due to the cold. 

 

“Why do you think the ship started like that?” His voice isn’t depressed, just analytical. She supposes it’s the scientist in him. 

 

She stifles a yawn. “Maybe the shark messed up something with the engine? Honestly I have no idea. We should check the wreck when we go back.”

 

She sighs and leans back into the softness of his bicep, watching as he tilts forward with a stick- the other thing her retrieved on his trip to the boat- and pokes at the cans. 

 

There’s nothing left to be said. They have a plan, they’re both dead tired, and Sigrun’s not sure what’s worse: her lost boat or her lost crew. 

 

So instead of thinking about the day, she leans her head back, looks at the stars (she’s always loved the ancient tales of the heroes remembered there) and tries not to think about whose body warmth she’s leeching. 

 

-

 

“I,” Emil proclaims, his hair teased up and full of sand, “Am cold. So cold!”

 

“Oh, stop being a baby!” Tuuri says, frowning at him. “Lalli jumped into the water to bring us to shore, AND he went all over looking for the captains. He needs the blanket more than you!”

 

Reynir nods, then looks down again and yelps. “Hey, uh, guys? Are cans supposed to-“

 

A sound goes off like a gunshot. Emil screams, a bit too high-pitched for his own liking, and ducks. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, and when he looks up Lalli seems to be hyperventilating- asleep no longer. 

 

Tuuri, meanwhile, has staggered back and fallen in the sand, and Reynir’s shrieking something about almost dying. 

 

It takes a few minutes to piece it all together, but Emil’s finally able to realize what happened: Reynir left the can in too long, and it exploded. 

 

Standing up as quickly as he dares, Emil rushes forwards and kicks the other cans out of the fire before they can do any damage: he may not be an expert on everything, but he’s pretty good with stuff that explodes. 

 

Tuuri’s frozen up with something like panic, Lalli’s curled up into a ball with his hands covering his ears- poor guy- and Reynir’s bleeding from his arm. 

 

Emil gives an internal groan. It seems he’s the only one who’s able to deal with this at the moment. He runs towards the emergency kit, pulls out some bandages and disinfectant, then runs back. 

 

Reynir’s looking at him with panicked, huge eyes, and Emil finds himself wishing desperately that they shared a language: as it is, he just makes vague motions towards the icelander’s arm and to the bandages. 

 

Once the message has been communicated, Reynir winces as Emil pours in what’s probably too much disinfectant. A quick wrap with a bandage, and the emergency, for now, has been alleviated. 

 

Tuuri’s conscious again, speaking to Lalli in low tones. They’re both shaking, eyes darting everywhere. Emil walks towards them, pointing to the bandages. 

 

“Tuuri, are either of you hurt?”

 

She frowns. “Lalli’s got something wrong with his ears. I think the explosion was too loud.”

 

Emil has… no idea what to do about that. They have painkillers, he thinks? When he mentions this to Tuuri, she makes a little shooing motion with her hand, so he goes and and gets them, tossing a paracetamol to Lalli and leaving. 

With a renewed interest in his empty stomach, Emil moves towards the cans. Rations are just as awful when they’re cold. 

 

It takes only a few minutes for them all to scarf down their rations, and Emil flounces into the sand again, so tired that he doesn’t even try to convince Tuuri he needs the blanket again. 

 

He’s tired enough, in fact, that he’s already asleep when Lalli creeps over, turns so their backs are touching, and covers them both with the blanket. 


	7. Shipwrecked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm gonna post within the next week  
> me: updates TWO YEARS LATER
> 
> I'M SO SORRY Y'ALL, I CANT believe university has been wrecking me like this. I'm working on writing the rest out and I'm gonna try to complete the work ASAP... pls pray for me...
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy these kids

 

When Sigrun wakes up the next morning, it’s to a throbbing arm and a suspicious space next to her. She frowns, sitting up as fast as she can. Where had Mikkel gone? If he’s going to head out without her…

  
Rolling her eyes, she looks around. The “island” they found is, in the light of day, nothing more than a glorified rock, covered in washed up logs and pieces of shell. Their lifeboat is still shored up, rocking against pebbles and much more dry now: the tide must have gone out. They have a good few hours before they’ll be able to row off again.

 

The only place Mikkel could have gone that’s out of sight is just over the spike of rock in the center of the island: so Sigrun gets up, dusts herself off- her clothes are thankfully still pretty well intact- and starts climbing.

 

When she drops over the top of the hill, she spots him easily: he’s wading in the water, pants rolled up to his knees and shirt half off. There’s a sunburn developing across his back.

 

“I think you might have cancer,” she calls, trying to hide the grin in her voice. His shoulders jump- almost as if he’s trying to hold back laughter. But when he finally turns to face her, Mikkel’s face is deadpan once more.

 

“Captain. So glad to see you’ve awoken.”

 

Sigrun just climbs down the rest of the rocks, watching him as he crouches and pokes at something in a tide pool.

 

“Are you? It looks like you’re having some quality alone time with all of your creatures. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.” She slaps him on the back once she catches up, watching as a brief handprint forms on his sunburn before it reverts back to a pale red.

 

“Maybe,” said Mikkel. Damn it, how can he not react! Sigrun finds herself grinning like an idiot, their eyes meeting. But over his shoulder, she sees the hint of other islands in the distance- and she frowns instead, moving slightly to the side to get a better look.

 

The glare of the sun is almost overpowering: as far as Sigrun can tell, it’s almost noon. She sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

 

“Tide’s been out since this morning,” he says. “It’ll be back in soon, but I thought you should rest. I don’t want to row the entire way alone.”

 

“What else are you good for, if not rowing me everywhere?” Sigrun starts climbing up the rocks again, hand over her eyes to try and get a better look at the situation. If she wasn’t hallucinating, she’d think she could see a bright glinting in the distance… the sun bouncing off of the metal hull of their ship, perhaps?

 

“I like to think I add some much needed common sense to our crew,” said Mikkel. Sigrun just scoffs, then nods in the direction of the ship.

 

“Can you see it?”

 

“Maybe?” Mikkel shrugs. “I’m not so good with distance,” he admits a beat later, as if he regrets it. “Wish we had a spyglass or something.”

 

“If wishes were fishes,” says Sigrun. She frowns. “Do you think we’ll be able to row over? The riptides were pretty bad.”

 

“We’ll just have to try,” said Mikkel.

 

 

And just like that, the good mood is gone. The two of them look out over the bright blue ocean. On any other occasion, Sigrun would have been riding high, but now… it just reminds her that she’s failed. A captain getting out of a shipwreck alive, when she doesn’t even know the rest of her crew is okay? And they still have no idea what caused the problem in the first place…

 

There has to have been something wrong with the engine, or maybe the anchor. But they’d only been running the ship for a few days, and Sigrun knows things don’t go wrong that quickly. Or, at least, she thought she’d known.

 

Nothing is clear anymore. She feels her shoulders start to sag. Beside her, Mikkel makes his way down the rocks again to look in the water: she just watches the ocean until her eyes start to hurt. Maybe if she stares enough, she’ll have an easy solution by the time the tide comes back in.

 

-

 

“Anything?”

 

“Of course there isn’t anything yet,” says Tuuri. She’s frowning at what was once a completely operational cellphone. Apparently seawater isn’t helpful when it comes to smartphones. “It won’t even turn on.”

 

Reynir says something in Icelandic- Emil turns to Tuuri for translation, but she just says something dismissively back at Reynir and keeps staring at the phone like it’s suddenly going to fix itself.

 

Emil feels the sweat rolling down the back of his neck and just sighs. When he’d gotten his license he’d been full of dreams, of going to bali, or the Bahamas, really anywhere warm, and getting to dive, looking around in the depths…

 

He hadn’t expected to be shipwrecked on some random atoll in Australia with two people he couldn’t speak to and a historian that was mad at him. Yet here he is…

 

At least Lalli is up to something away from the main action. So, with nothing else to do, Emil heads over to where the younger boy is wading through the water, his destination clear- their wrecked ship.

 

Her hull has been clearly breached, although the engine seems untouched: Emil, who managed to get himself at least half of a mechanical engineering degree before flunking out, thanks the heavens for that. The last thing they need right now is an explosion.

 

Still, he’s not sure heading in to check it out is a good idea either. “Lalli, wait!” He says. The boy doesn’t stop- in fact, he actually speeds up, going into full swimming form as he makes his way over to the wreck.

 

Emil sighs and follows. The water is a nice temperature- much more balmy than Swedish waters at any point, to be honest- although the sun is a bit too aggressive for his own tastes. How do the Australians even do it? He’s heard there’s some hole in the atmosphere down here, although he’s not quite sure if he believes it. Wouldn’t they not be able to breathe?

 

Speaking of breathing… shouldn’t they be a little more worried about their own safety? There are plenty of dangerous things in the water. Jellyfish, for one. According to the hurried google searches from before Emil came to Australia, there are jellyfish that can kill you in one sting…

 

He gulps. But when he looks up, Lalli’s pressed onwards, and he refuses to back down from a challenge. So he follows Lalli, eventually pulling himself up on the wreck.

 

The other boy is moving nimbly along what used to be their deck. Emil follows him through the space, grabbing a new shirt from what used to be his bunk. Thankfully, the upper cabins are almost dry: the ship is still partially submerged, but the water wasn’t deep enough to completely cover it.

 

Lalli is nimble in the darkness of the wrecked ship, his movements light. Emil follows behind him, feeling clumsy in the wake of someone so coordinated. “Hey, uh, Lalli? What are you looking for? Exactly?”

 

Lalli just makes a dismissive noise at him. Typical.

 

It’s only when they come to the steps within the boat that Emil realizes what they’re doing. They’re headed towards the engine room.. .which is currently at least partially underwater.

 

Unfortunately, submerged wrecks have always… kinda creeped Emil out. He thinks, briefly, of all the photos you see of divers that get caught in caves, or on doorways or something, and never come back up. Worse, the divers that get nitrogen drunk and convince themselves it’s best to just die down there. He restrains a shudder. Lalli wouldn’t care if he didn’t follow, right? Emil could just wait up here, and everything would be fine-

 

A voice in the back of his head reminds him, very nastily, that the golden rule of diving is to always have a partner. He closes his eyes. Curse you, conscience.

 

When he lowers himself into the water, he remembers he doesn’t have goggles- but just as he’s about to get out again, Lalli tosses him a mask. He frowns at it, then looks up at Lalli once more. “But where did you-“

 

Lalli points upstairs, where they just were. Where the storage lockers are. Emil realizes, suddenly, that he probably should have done something other than change clothes. Stupid!

 

Still, he’s glad that Lalli took him into account. He wipes the mask off, then dons it.

 

Then, heart pounding a vicious rhythm in his chest, he ducks underwater. In the darkness of the ship, he’s not even able to see the storm clouds gathering outside.

 

-


	8. Salty Sailors: the fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wHEEZES AGAIN I'M ON A ROLL SO I'M JUST POSTING THIS,,, NOW LMAO

There’s a rule, when you’re working on the shoreline. Never turn your back on the ocean. Because nothing’s more fickle, more ready to kill you without mercy, than the ocean herself.

 

Sigrun’s known this rule since she was old enough to understand it: so when the storm clouds start gathering, just as the tide begins to come in, she can’t stop herself from worrying. Mikkel, from where he’s standing next to her, sighs.

 

“This isn’t going to go well,” he says.

 

Sigrun just scrunches up her shoulders. “Weeks! Weeks without bad weather! And of course it shows up just as we need to get back to the kids.” She rubs at the cut on her arm, feeling the winds start to blow.

 

“You think we should risk it?”

 

“Of course! What am I, a coward?” Sigrun rolls her eyes. “A storm’s got nothing on us. We’ll make it through. It’s just going to be more of a pain than usual.”

 

“I hope you’re sure about that,” says Mikkel. “I seem to recall you thinking this mission would be easy.”

 

“Yes, well,” she says, “It should have been easy. I still don’t know what happened to the engine.”

 

“You think it was the engine?”

 

“It wasn’t the currents,” Sigrun says. She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince more.

 

-

 

“I hope they’ll be fine,” says Reynir. He sounds queasy. Tuuri, who’s just felt the first few drops of the storm rain down on her, doesn’t bother to respond.

 

“ _Do_ you think they’ll be fine?” Reynir’s panicking more now. Ugh. Tuuri turns around, taking a deep breath.

 

“Reynir, I’m trying to fix this. Do you mind being quiet?”

 

“Oh- I- okay!”

 

She regrets it instantly. “Sorry.”

 

“No, no, I’m sorry.” Reynir, the sweet ragfoll that he is, sort of curls up on the ground and throws rocks into the ocean. Tuuri, tapping the phone against her thigh, looks over at the ship. It’s just as broken as it was last night, but now that the storm is gathering Tuuri doesn’t like the feeling she’s getting at all.

 

“Do you think there’s going to be lighting?” She moves from foot to foot, keeping her eyes on the clouds above. They’re getting thicker minute by minute. Reynir, from beside her, picks up the turtle and puts it under his arm.

 

“I dunno,” he said. “I’ve never been this far south before…”

 

“What? I thought your parents were on the conservation council.” She moves closer to the beach as she hears thunder in the distance. “LALLI! EMIL! YOU NEED TO GET BACK HERE,” she calls, cupping her hands around her mouth. “THE WEATHER’S GETTING BAD!”

 

There’s an awkward silence from Reynir. Tuuri turns around, then frowns at him. “What?”

 

He goes red, then says, “Um, about that...”

 

Behind him, a horn sounds. They’re no longer alone. Tuuri loses focus, just stares out, her heart beating too loudly in her chest to make out what Reynir is saying. The research ship right behind him is much more important.

 

-

 

One step. Emil just has to take one step into the deep, dark mass of the water inside the ship. He doesn’t have to think about all the divers that die in underwater structures. He doesn’t have to remember that this is the leaky mask and saltwater is gonna be dripping into his eyes. He has to follow Lalli, because no diver goes alone, and he has to get. Over. This.

 

 _Or,_ he thinks, his subconscious kicking in with full force, _you could just stay here, and if Lalli didn’t show up after a bit, you could go in after him…._

He looks up. Lalli’s gone. _Oops._

 

With a couple of quick movements, he yanks his mask on, then dives into the water. It’s surprisingly chilly, thunder ringing in the distance just as he fully submerges himself. He shoves that worry aside, though, because he’s got to catch up to his- well, his crewmate. They’re not quite friends yet, are they?

 

Or maybe they are, Emil’s not quite sure what Lalli’s doing- ever.

 

He shakes the thought from his head, follows the trace of Lalli’s flippers through the belly of the ship. The kitchen is mostly submerged, and beyond… the door of the access panel for the engine is partially open, almost like they’re being invited to look at it.

 

Lalli’s already reaching in, cheeks slightly puffed out with air as he reaches in. Emil just surfaces, gasping for breath in the tiny space available before ducking back down. Just as he’s gotten near to the engine, lalli turns back around- they make brief eye contact before Lalli pushes up, holding something in his hands as he takes another breath.

 

When Emil joins him, treading water in what used to be their kitchen, Lalli holds up what he grabbed from the engine. It’s a strange grey color, mottled and full of holes. Emil frowns. “What’s that?”

 

There’s a brief silence, in which he remembers that Lalli doesn’t speak Swedish. Lalli just rolls his eyes slightly, then shoves the part into Emil’s hands and dives back underwater. Emil leans back, jabbing his elbow into a pot as he does.

 

“Agh!”

 

There’s a great clattering splash as every kitchen utensil they have crashes inot the water, rocking Lalli in the water- he emerges once more, casting an annoyed glance at Emil, then starts to swim for the door.   
  
“What? We’re already finished?”

 

Emil almost feels cheated. Weren’t they doing something important, other than grabbing some part of the engine?

 

…Wait. Wait, was that what-

 

A crash of thunder interrupts his thoughts. The sound is much, much louder. And Emil is in a _metal_ boat, suspended in water.

 

He follows after Lalli as quickly as he can. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

 

-

 

“Row faster!” Sigrun’s got the emergency flare in hand as they make their way across the waves, her hair flying into her face. She spits as it gets into her mouth. Mikkel just sighs from behind her.

 

“Sigrun, we need to go back!” He calls, working at the paddles as fast as he can.

 

“Absolutely not! No captain abandons her crew!”

 

“There’s a very real chance of us dying out here,” he says, obviously annoyed. The worse part of his tone, though, is that Sigrun can almost hear real worry underneath it.

 

She doesn’t blame him: the storm has been getting worse and worse. It’s supposed to be at the height of the day, but it’s almost completely dark out: lightning flashes in the distance, and waves are building up, some larger than the boat they’re in. Still, she thinks they can make it. She hasn’t been in the navy for nothing.

 

“Oh, please! Any more talk like that and I’ll peg you as a mutineer,” she says. “I think I can row again, let me at it.”

 

Mikkel dutifully shuffles to the side, letting her grab one of the oars and pull with all of her might. “I feel like I should remind you that we’re co-captains,” he says.

 

Sigrun just rolls her eyes at him, rowing faster. “A co-captain,” she says, “would be someone experienced in the navy.”

 

“Ah, yes. I’m sure.” Mikkel’s got that dumb half grin that means he’s about to mock her, but before he says anything, he looks up. “Sigrun, there’s someone over there.”

 

“What?”

 

Yeah, he’s got to be pulling her leg. But Mikkel isn’t usually an actor, per se, he just assumes you’ll trust him… Sigrun turns around.

 

There’s another research vessel, close enough to them that she can see the lights flickering in the portholes. She has to act fast.

 

Grabbing the signal flare, Sigrun jumps up into the prow of the lifeboat, leaving Mikkel to deal with both of the oars again. Then she sets it off, watching it spark so brightly that no captain could miss it. Her eyes watering, she turns towards the boat.

 

Mikkel is behind her, waving an arm in the hair as he lets the movement of the boat slow. They’re coming up even closer to the vessel, so close that if they don’t let a ladder down to help Sigrun and Mikkel up they’ll be run over by the prow.

 

And yet.

 

They don’t do anything.

 

Sigrun’s half blinded by the signal flare, so when the actual movement of the vessel starts to pull in the lifeboat, she doesn’t realize until it’s almost too late.

 

 

-


	9. Ah yes, tropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> listen. LISTEN. I am HERE for the sigrun/mikkel shippy pictures in the comic lately and if no one else is gonna write fic for this ship, I will!!!
> 
> ...Eventually.
> 
> ....once they stop getting interrupted by the plot....

Lalli is a professional. He’s used to swimming at night, swimming in a rainstorm, swimming in the icy waters of the arctic while waves large enough to destroy him come over the horizon. He is not, however, stupid enough to swim when lightning is striking. That’s the way you get electrocuted, and he is NOT in favor of dying.

 

So when Emil, stupid hair and all, starts trying to jump in and swim for shore, there’s only one thing he can do. He tackles the swede, dumping all of his body weight on him, to stop him from getting in the water.

 

Emil is babbling something in Swedish: Lalli ignores it. Once he’s satisfied the other boy isn’t going anywhere, he rolls off him, then grabs his arm and drags him back into the boat.

 

There’s a certain destination he has in mind: the captain’s quarters should be dry, since they’re on the starboard- and dry- side of the ship, and they’re bound to find some blankets there. It should also be insulated, and if they avoid touching any metal they can make sure they won’t end up fried.

 

“Wha-“ Emil’s babbling even more now, but when Lalli kicks open the door to the cabin, he seems to understand. It only takes a few minutes to grab the blankets- dry, like Lalli had predicted- and curl up in the center of Sigrun’s bunk.

 

It’s dark inside the cabin, with only weak light filtering in through the porthole- and that light is inconsistent, with only the occasional true light of a lightning flash.

 

There’s only one blanket.

 

Emil hesitates at the door, looking freezing. The weather, after turning stormy, is cold now too. Lalli sighs, then opens his arms, gesturing to the bunk next to him. And the empty space in the blanket.Emil hesitates more- which is ridiculous, it’s hardly like they’re getting married- and then, mid-step towards Lalli, turns around.

 

“Mrh?”

 

Emil babbles something in swedish, then realizes his mistake. There’s a pause: a thought dawns on Emil’s face: and then he makes a movement with his hands. A familiar movement. How did he learn _hand signals?_

 

FOOD, Emil gestures, nodding towards Sigrun’s locker. Lalli just tips his head to the side, then makes a shrugging movement. How is he supposed to know if there’s food in there?

 

Still, it’s kind of nice to be able to communicate, so he makes an affirmative gesture himself, then watches as Emil opens up the locker. There are bangs of thunder in the distance: Lalli suppresses his ever-present worry for Tuuri, watching as Emil’s shoulders jump up in excitement.

 

When he turns around, his grin reflects the lightning. In his hands are two protein bars and a kitkat.

 

Lalli finds himself reaching out for it, but Emil just walks over and joins him on the bed, mattress dipping under his weight. The blanket closes around both of them, and Lalli can feel Emil’s warmth trickling through the contact they have. It’s surprisingly nice.

 

In the silence, he hears the wrapper of the kitkat- and then the snapping sound of it being broken. Emil’s hand reaches over with half of it.

 

Lalli takes it, closing his eyes reflexively as he tastes the chocolate. Who knew being shipwrecked would turn out so well?

 

As he chews, his eyes return to the piece of the engine he retrieved. He pulls his legs up under him, retreating further into the blanket as he thinks. It’s so warm and soft in there, the candy bar quickly disappearing, that he finds his eyes closing.

 

 _Thanks, Sigrun,_ he thinks, drifting off to sleep. Beside him, Emil’s breathing slows.

 

As it rains all around them, they sleep.

 

-

 

“Hrugh!”

 

Mikkel feels himself lurching up and forward, the blackness that he’d been embracing suddenly chased away by the feeling of lips around his mouth and chest compressions. He turns over, spits up water. Sigrun, from where she is in front of him, looks worried. He wipes the side of his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “What just happened?”

 

“You drowned, dummy,” says Sigrun. “You’re not allowed to die!”

 

Oh. Shit. Sigrun looks like she’s actually, genuinely, distressed. And the wound in her shoulder, previously closed up, is now gushing blood all over her arm. The deck he’s on lurches again, and he dry heaves, stomach empty. Drowning _sucks._ Through his stomach flipping he feels her hand on his arm, trying to steady him. He closes his eyes, panting, then turns around so that he’s sitting properly. His head is throbbing. “What just happened?”

 

“They pulled us up on deck,” says Sigrun. She still hasn’t let go of his arm. Her fingers feel like a vice. “Something about not seeing us.”

 

Mikkel nods. “Are you okay? You need to bandage up that wound on your arm.” He tries very hard not to think about the fact that her lips were just on his a few minutes ago, and he can’t even remember it. Her eyes are very wide, almost crazed. And she seems to be staring at something else, not even responding to him. Mikkel recognizes an adrenaline crash when he sees one.

 

Sigrun’s pulled up into a standing position by someone on deck, the storm pounding down rain, and Mikkel realizes that she’s really in bad shape. She’s got massive bags under her eyes, her hair matted down from the water. He feels himself being pulled up as well. It must be a small crew, because it’s just them and the two people leading them along as they walk inside the ship. It’s of about the same age as their own ship, although a lot better equipped. This is a research mission that makes bank. It’s only as they’re lead into a room that he starts to wonder why they aren’t being brought to the captain. Surely they should speak to someone about why they were just floating in the middle of the ocean around Australia?

 

He turns to one of the crewmen, speaking in English. “Um, excuse me. Is it possible for us to speak to the captain?” No response. He tries again, in Icelandic. Nothing. Danish. No. Swedish. Also no.

Sigrun, from beside him, scoffs. “They’re not going to talk to us,” she says.

 

“Why?”

 

They’re shoved into a room with a single porthole and a bunk, but nothing else. The door slams behind them. Mikkel closes his eyes briefly, then opens them at the sound of the bolt being closed from the outside. “ _What?”_

 

“They’re other shipwreck hunters,” Sigrun says, from beside him. “I figured it out as soon as I saw their equipment. It’s a competitive industry. They’ll never talk to us.” She lies down on the bed with a huff, blowing her hair out of her eyes and getting blood all over the sheets.

 

Mikkel closes his eyes and counts to ten. Then he sighs and says, “You know, I should probably bind your arm with something. Do you still have your knife on you?”

 

When she doesn’t respond he just looks for it, spotting it on her diver’s belt. It’s a good thing she’s such a workaholic: otherwise they’d have been stranded with nothing. “I’m going to get it now,” he says, trying to be a calming presence. “Don’t hit me.”

 

“You act like someone’s smacked you before for grabbing something from their belt,” says Sigrun. Her tone of voice is still depressed, but there’s a hint of humor in there somewhere. He’s got to keep that going.

 

“I live an exciting life, what can I say,” he says. He pulls the knife out, then begins to cut at the sheets. Once he’s got a good strip going, he sits on the bed next to her. “Give me your arm, I want to clean it out and bind it.”

 

“Don’t you need a cleaning agent?”

 

“I’m just going to wipe it out,” says Mikkel. “But we’re going to need a disinfectant sooner or later, yes. That’s another reason we need to speak to the captain of this vessel.”

 

“Yeah, well, I already told you, we’re not-“ Sigrun makes a noise somewhere between a scream and a yelp, cut off at the crux when Mikkel reaches in and wipes out her cut with the sheet. “Agh! Warn a girl first!”

 

“That means you’d tense up,” says Mikkel.

 

“What do you know? You’re a doctor of marine biology, nerd.” But she’s smiling as she says it, even as Mikkel’s tying the sheet around her arm and tucking the ends under so they won’t catch on anything. The boat rocks back and forth again, lightning flashing outside.

 

“I went to medical school,” says Mikkel. “For a day. Then I realized I wasn’t particularly interested in humans.” He pats the finished bandage. “I have, however, taken several first aid classes. Jock.” Sigrun actually laughs at that one, like she’s surprised herself. Mikkel watches how the light washes over her face, her hair, and tries to focus on the mission. He doesn’t let go of her arm. The warmth of her washes over him as he sits there, still drenched.

 

This situation is, upon reflection, pretty unfortunate. He stares up at the ceiling instead of thinking about it. “So,” he says, “If you don’t think they’re going to let us talk to the captain, what do you think they’re actually going to do?”

 

“Drop us off at the nearest port and call it a day,” says Sigrun. She sounds depressed. “Then they’ll deny having to do with destroying our rowboat. And THEN we’ll look for the kids, but they won’t be there, and we’ll be marked as failures.”

 

“Is that what keeps you going when you’re working for the UN? Being a pessimist?”

 

“I- well, no, but-“

 

“I thought you were used to working in harsh conditions,” says Mikkel. He scoots back on the mattress, resting back against the wall. Sigrun follows him, almost unconsciously, resting her head on his shoulder. Their legs are tangled together. There’s more than enough space for them to spread out, but it’s like they’ve silently decided to ignore it. Sigrun’s hand tightens around his: somehow it migrated so they were touching fingers.

 

“Yeah, well, treasure hunting is something else,” she says. “I’m not used to attempted sabotage.”

 

“And here I thought you were making that list of mutineers because of a past bad experience,” Mikkel says. He feels himself leaning in, Sigrun moving her face up so their lips were almost touching-

 

The door swings open. Mikkel and Sigrun dart apart, Mikkel’s heart beating like a drum against his ribs. Reynir stands in front of them, face flushed, tears welling up. In one long breath, he says, “OhmygodI’msosorryIdidn’tthinkthiswasgoingtohappen-“

 

Mikkel finds himself speechless. But Sigrun darts off the bed, slams Reynir into the side of the ship, and says, knife to his throat- where’d she even _GET_ that? When had Mikkel given it back to her?- “ _What. Did. You. Do.”_

 

It’s hard to decide what’s more surprising- how eager Sigrun was to attack her own crewmember, or the fact that Mikkel still finds himself attracted to her. He watches her move the knife closer to Reynir, shoulders heaving, and decides to go with the first option. After all, she’s always been his type.

 

“Hey, let’s calm down,” he says, moving in between them. Sigrun looks up at him like she’s forgotten he was there. “Why don’t we all sit down, and Reynir can explain why he’s here, and we can all just take a deep breath.” Reynir swallows. Sigrun reluctantly backs off, sitting on the bed. Mikkel wonders, vaguely, if this is what it’s like to have children.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Then Reynir breaks.

 

“It all started a couple of months ago…”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I know it's been a long ride and I'm sorry for keeping y'all waiting, but it's wrapping up, I promise! I'm thinking one more chapter and an epilogue ;^)

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit is welcome! I wrote this at like 1 in the morning and will probably continue to write this at ungodly hours, so if you have suggestions/want to beta let me know!


End file.
